5 comments/ 40651 views/ 13 favorites Ain't Wearin' No Bra By: JustLikeEwe I remember those words as clearly today as when Carol Brown said them to me back in 1969, and I remember just about everything else that happened during that summer just as if it had happened yesterday. "Ain't wearin' no bra," the blonde teenager had said to me as she stood nervously in front of me out behind my barn, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she looked around with quick glances to make sure no one was near. To be honest, I was nervous too, even though I wasn't an 18 year old girl but instead a supposedly mature 55 year old man. My eyes were darting around even though out where my farm was located, neighbors were few and far between. The closest house to mine was the house Carol Brown called home, and that was about a 1/2 mile down the road. She lived down there with her father and couple of brothers, and I knew her father well. The missus wasn't around anymore, and I couldn't blame her if she had bolted rather than stay married with that sorry shit. He was a mean and miserable asshole, and we didn't get along well at all even considering how little we interacted. If he knew that I was with his daughter right now, he would like me even less than usual, and if he had ever heard what I had just asked of his daughter - well, let's just say that he would not be pleased. "They look pretty big," I had said, and I was referring to her breasts with that comment. Carol had been flirting with me as I worked, and I had been flirting right on back. Carol wasn't too good at it, but neither was I. I was out of practice because I hadn't flirted with anybody for over 40 years, since the days I was courting my late wife, rest her soul. Carol wasn't very good at flirting because I don't think she got to do much of it. Her old man was a strict SOB, so from what I gathered even if a boy had found his way out to her farm, her father would have stuck his foot up his ass more likely than not. She might have had boys interested back when she was in school, but her old man made her quit back in 10th grade, saying he needed her to help out on the farm more than she needed Algebra, Biology and Chaucer. I say Carol "might have had boys interested" because to be truthful, Carol Brown was not what you would call a beautiful girl by most standards, and my standards were by no means high, since I'm no matinee idol myself. I'm a plain and very ordinary guy, resembling Rocky Marciano more than Rock Hudson, which means that a lifetime of farm work has me looking like I was rode hard and put away wet. I'm 6'2" and about 200 pounds, but my hair is going and my back is sore. Carol, on the other hand, at least has youth on her side. She should move to the city and get herself a real life instead of getting old and beaten-down like most of us out here do, although with her lack of education I suspect she might have trouble getting a decent job, and as I mentioned, she's not a raving beauty. She's got pale blue eyes, stands about 5'5" and has what I call dirty blonde hair - a kind of strawberry blonde that she wears down to her shoulders - and if she went to a beauty parlor and got it cut it would probably look great, but she doesn't have the money for that. Carol was kind of skinny, from what I could see given the fact that she always wore baggy blouses with cut off sleeves and shorts. Her arms and legs were skinny for sure, although she likely had a wiry strength and toughness that she got from doing farm work. What was under that blouse was what got the conversation headed to the point where Carol had informed me that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath that checkered shirt. I also knew that despite her baggy blouses, I couldn't help but notice over the years that as Carol got older, she was blooming in that particular area. Whenever she would come over to chat, I would try and peek down the front of her shirts or inside the armholes of the blouses see wore with a lot of the sleeves gone, and while I hadn't gotten a real good look, I knew that there was definitely something under that fabric. So when Carol had mentioned something about this girl on a TV show, some actress that appeared out of a magic lamp, and how much her father got excited whenever she would pop up in this skimpy costume, Carol knew why. "She's got big boobies," Carol said, giggling when referring to Barbara Eden, who played Jeannie on the show. "Daddy likes girls with big ones and that lady has got em'." I had feigned ignorance when Carol had mentioned it, but I knew who Barbara Eden was all right. I just didn't want Carol to think that I was some pervert like her father. The pervert part fit, but I wasn't any Ted Brown. "So do you," I said, leaning on my shovel and nodding towards Carol's chest. "Not as big as hers," Carol said, smiling and showing that slightly chipped tooth in the front, the only flaw in what seemed to be a perfect set of teeth. "I don't know about that," I admitted. "You sure have blossomed over the years though." "I have?" Carol said, twitching her nose a second before shaking her head. "Nah. Not like Jeannie." "Of course," I suggested. "If you wanted to show me what you've got I could give you an honest appraisal." Carol laughed at that, and I joined her, but after she stopped laughing I kept smiling. "Go ahead," I said. "Let me have a look at you. Just open up your blouse for me." I may have said that, but if there was a thought balloon over my head it would have read, "I'm pathetic. I'm a lonely old man so desperate for anything remotely approaching sex that I'm practically begging a teenage girl to show me her tits." "Can't," Carol said, crunching up her face and making the freckles that surrounded her nose dance. "Besides, I ain't wearin' no bra." I knew that. I suspected that if she ever did own one, she probably outgrew it years ago. Besides, if I wanted to see a girl in a bra I could look at the underwear section of the Sears catalogue, for crying out loud. "That's okay," I said as casually as I could manage. "You can just lift up your blouse. Just for a little bit." Carol stood there, looking around nervously while she debated my suggestion, and then shook her head again, mumbling, "Can't." "Why not? I asked. "Of course, if you're ashamed of yourself..." "I'm not ashamed," Carol said defiantly. "Well then?" "How about you?" she asked. "You gonna show me yours?" I felt like I was in school again, actually playing this juvenile game, but such was my desperation that I found myself answering her. "Sure, I said. "Don't know why you would want to see a broken down old coot's chest, but..." "Not your chest," Carol snapped. "Your - thing. But, you ain't that old." I knew what she meant, but I was thrilled not only to hear that she didn't think I was all that old, but that she wanted to see my cock, which was a new one in my book, so I nodded yes. So began the most agonizing couple of moments in my life. It was like I was being teased and taunted by some exotic dancer, instead of watching this frightened teenager who looked like a deer facing a car's headlights, slowly pulling her blouse out from underneath her shorts where the bottom was tucked in. "Nobody is around," I told the girl, whose head kept darting from side to side, reacting to every leaf that rustled or bird that chirped. "If my Daddy ever found out about this..." "I'm sure as hell am not going to tell him," I insisted, and my cock was surging in my pants over this silly interplay we were having. Finally, Carol was lifting her blouse, revealing her pale stomach, and as she raised her top the outline of her ribs became clear. Then, there they were. "Higher," I wheezed, and Carol scrunched her nose up but complied. "Little more." "Stay there," Carol said, and it occurred to me that I must have been moving towards the girl without even knowing it, drawn like a moth to the flame by an 18 year old girl's tits. "Wow," I said softly. "They are big." Certainly bigger than I had expected, and on Carol's skinny frame, her cantaloupe-sized globes looked even larger than they actually were. Firm too - they looked so firm that I was dying to touch them, and since I had made that move towards her seconds before I wasn't far out of reach. Her nipples weren't very large, and the pale rose aureoles they rested on were only about the size of silver dollars, but when you haven't seen a pair of breasts for years you forget how great they are. "You're a very pretty girl," I told Carol. "I can't believe how well developed you are." Carol seemed to blush at that, and I tried to take this a step further. "You can take the blouse off if you want," I suggested, but Carol shook her head briskly at that suggestion, even though I had seen just about everything there. The wild sprays of hair under her arms were exposed as the frightened teen kept the blouse held up high, armpits that might never have seen a razor and were as hairy as any man's. The sight did not bother me, because after all this was 1969. It wasn't uncommon to see hippie chicks passing through our parts from time to time, and all that hair added a level of maturity to the look of the nervous teen. "Now you," Carol said. "Huh?" "You said you would show me your thing," Carol reminded me. "I'm nowhere near as good looking as you," I said, slipping the straps off the shoulders of my bib overalls and lowering them down to my knees. "You seen men's things before?" "Couple," Carol said, looking at my faded boxer shorts while biting her lip. I was going to tell Carol that she hadn't seen anybody like me, but instead decided to just lower the boxers and be done with it. Chances are, if my past experiences were any measure, she would either faint, laugh or run. Carol did none of the above, but did stare open mouthed as my cock, freed from the briefs, jerked upward, sort of pointing towards Carol in its own way. My cock is weird looking and I've been told it's rather big, although the thickness is more startling than the length. The fact that it curves to my right when erect adds to the "character" of my organ, or at least that's what my wife used to tell me, and it was close to that condition as it swung around lazily in front of me. "Weird looking, huh?" I said after Carol just stared at my cock, since apparently none of the others she had seen were as thick as a salami at the base and had a glans not much larger than a gumdrop at the other end. Carol nodded, unable to take her eyes off of my cock. "Want to touch it?" I offered. "Does it get even bigger?" she asked. "It will if you hold it," I said. "Come on." I even sweetened the offer by telling her she could lower her blouse if she would just come over and hold it for a minute, and even though I thought I sounded pathetic begging this girl to touch my dick, I didn't care. Carol proceeded to come over to my side, and with a hand that was visibly shaking, reached over and wrapped her fingers around my member halfway up the shaft. "It's hot," Carol whispered as I exhaled like a steam engine while her cool fingers held my organ loosely. "It's really fat." "You can't straighten it out," I said of her weak effort to make the curve go away, and as it swelled in her hand the curve grew more severe. "It is getting bigger,' Carol said with a giggle that became a full-fledged laugh. "I can feel it throbbing." "Not nice to laugh at people," I said, pretending to be hurt. "I know it's funny looking..." "Sorry," Carol said quickly, her eyes showing actual concern about hurting my feeling. "Wasn't really laughing. Just nervous I guess, and it's so thick my hand only goes half way around. See?" I was quite aware of that, having watched the only hand that had been near it for years - my own - go up and down it too many times to count. "Here," I said, putting my hand over Carol's and moving it up and down. "Please." It was over in a minute. A hand other than my own was jerking me off, even though my own hand was providing the movement at the start. Mercifully, Carol's hand began moving through her own efforts, leaving me to lean against her as she jerked me off. Her hand, rough from farm work like my own, moved up and down the top half like she had done this at least once before, her grasp hiding the gumdrop head and then sliding down until her hand barely made it halfway around the shaft. "Oh!" I groaned pathetically as my orgasm overwhelmed me, sending jets of my seed all over the ground to our right, leaving a milky white reminder of what I had just made the neighbor girl do. "Mr. Schiller?" Carol's voice woke me out of whatever place my mind was as my cock went limp in her hand, and what had just taken place suddenly hit me. There I was, a damn near senior citizen standing behind my barn with my overalls down around my ankles, having just made a teenage girl masturbate me. "Mr. Schiller? You okay?" I shook my head and wiped the tear that had somehow trickled down my cheek, a badge of my shame. "I'm sorry," I said, hurriedly pulling up my boxers and overalls after pulling my mutant dick out of Carol's hand. "I didn't mean to make you do that." "It's okay," Carol said softly as I moved away from her. "I'm sorry," was all I could say in response. "Please forgive me." "Besides," Carol said as I walked back toward my house. "You didn't make me. I kinda wanted to." "That didn't make it right," I said to my empty kitchen after staggering inside my house, and as I watched Carol make her way through the fields on her way back home, I shook my head. "Why does it feel so much better when somebody else does it to you?" I said, continuing the conversation I was having with myself on the way to the bathroom, where I hoped that a shower would wash away the filth I felt. *** The shower cleaned my body but not my soul, because I still felt ashamed all through dinner, which I made and ate without remembering what it even was. Half expecting to see Carol's asshole father at my door any second, I was somewhat surprised when no such visit occurred. In fact, I had just begun to manage to get the image of Carol's hand out of my mind when I heard a gentle tapping around the back of the house. Getting up and turning down Mannix on the TV, I listened and heard it again. I went to the back door and looked outside. Huddled in an over-sized jacket was Carol, looking nervously at me through the curtains. "Hi," I said, clutching the opening of the bathrobe I was wearing. "Hi Mr. Schiller," Carol said, glancing down towards her house which was well out of the range of vision. "Can I - uh - come in?" "Oh - sure," I said, letting the girl in out of the chill of the night. "Can I get you something to drink?" I offered. "Water?" "No, I just wanted to see if you were still mad at me or not," Carol asked. "Mad? At you?" I asked. "Why would I be mad at you?" "I dunno. You seemed kinda - upset - about what I did today." "You didn't do anything wrong," I said in the understatement of all time, ushering her into the living room where Mike Connors was moving his lips on the muted TV, Mannix providing the only light in the living room. "That was my fault," I said. "I was fooling around with you and it got out of control. Kind of ashamed of myself. I should know better, after all I'm not a kid." "Neither am I," Carol said, as if I hadn't noticed. "I don't have many friends - any friends really. Outside of home you're about the only person that talks to me." "Does - uh - your old man know you're here?" "Gosh no!" Carol said. "I snuck out. Crawled out the window." "Really?" I asked. "Why? I mean, I'm glad you did, but why would you risk getting in trouble?" "I dunno," Carol said softly. "I thought that today, you liked what I did to you." "I did. Very much, but..." "You said I was pretty," Carol said, her hand going to the zipper of the over-sized jacket she was wearing, a jacket that had 'Ted' embroidered on a patch over the Grange Hall logo. Her father's jacket. "Nobody ever said I was pretty before," Carol said as the zipper slid down, the tiny clicking noises sounding like an engine roaring in the deathly quiet room. Carol was naked underneath, expect for a tattered pair of panties, and as she sat there looking at me looking at her, I moved my lips and tried to speak. "You are pretty," I managed to say. "I liked how you got excited when you looked at me," Carol said, and somehow I was leaning back on the sofa, and Carol was opening my bathrobe and reaching into the fly of my pajamas. "Can I suck on it?" Carol asked timidly after fishing my flaccid dick out, and without waiting for my response, bowed her head and ran her tongue over the relatively tiny head of my dick, flicking the little bulb while squeezing the thick flesh of the rubbery shaft. "Carol," I whispered, running my hand through her dirty blonde hair while she moved her mouth down the shaft a bit before letting her mouth move back off of it. "Does this feel good Mr. Schiller?" Carol asked before taking it in her mouth. "Yes," I gasped as I watched Carol's mouth move down the shaft as far as she could manage before pulling back upward. Carol, for all her claims of being lonely, had done this before. I could tell even though it had been years since I had enjoyed the pleasure of a woman's mouth on my cock, and with each slide of her lips down my member I got harder, until the curved flesh was just as hard as it had been earlier. I wanted to apologize for what she was holding in her hand, but she seemed fascinated by it all; the diminutive glans, the curve of my organ and the ever-increasing thickness of the shaft as it disappeared into the bush. "Would you tell me before you shoot your goo?" Carol asked me as she looked up from my lap, and I nodded. "I'll swallow it," she assured me. "It's just that if I don't know it's coming, I choke on it, and I know that ruins it for you." "You've done this before, haven't you?" I asked. "You're very good at it." "Couple guys," Carol said, sliding her hand up and down my cock, which was wet half way down with her saliva. "Lucky guys," I said as Carol's head bobbed up and down while her hand snaked down and grabbed my balls. "Wow!" Carol exclaimed as she kneaded my sac with one hand while spinning her hand around the stump of my cock. "These are big too. No wonder you shot so much spunk before." My hand had worked down to cup Carol's tit as she bent over me, and the flesh was every bit as soft and giving as it had looked. I was fighting the urge to cum as Carol's lips moved up and down, her mouth adapting quickly to the bizarre arch. Finally, when I could hold back no longer, I warned Carol that I was about to cum. She didn't miss a beat, and when after an extended period of being on the brink of orgasm my cock started to spurt into Carol's throat, she swallowed it eagerly. "Wish I could get my mouth further down it," Carol lamented as I slumped into the back of the couch, having just cum just as intensely as I had earlier in the day. "Gets way too thick for me about halfway down." "It was wonderful," I said as I drew Carol upright and kissed her with as much passion as I had. "Wow!" Carol said after our lips came apart. "I thought guys didn't like to kiss you after that." "I'm not most guys. Besides, I know where it came from," I said. "Now how about you?" "Me?" Carol asked as I rolled onto my knees and knelt between her slender legs. There was a light dusting of down on her thighs and calves, and it felt soft as I ran my hands up and down the slender limbs. Up higher, her tattered panties were at eye level. Pink panties, torn around the elastic tops and sides, and her strawberry blonde pubic hair peeked out from the rips. Ain't Wearin' No Bra Carol seemed shocked that I was taking down her panties, and even tried to stop me for a second, but I was persistent and eased the undies down, exposing an abundant triangle of golden fur, slightly darker than the hair on her head. The smell of her sex was dizzying, the pungent aroma almost bowling me over as I removed the panties and moved my face into the delta. Carol was hairy down there, even more so than my late wife had been, and although she may have been self conscious about it, the sight and scent of Carol's dense bush only made me more aroused. I wrapped my hands under and around Carol's hips, holding her down and drawing her towards my face as I buried my tongue in the steamy cauldron that was her cunt. The second my tongue hit her clit, Carol started howling, and as I lapped at her pungent pussy I was grateful for the long distance between our houses, because Carol was a screamer. My tongue slid up and down her pussy, my cheeks bathed in the juice of her plump labia as my face devoured her teenage sex, bringing back old memories. The sounds, the smells and the tastes all combined to make me crazy, and as Carol came it was all I could do to keep her from sliding up over the back of the sofa as she came like someone possessed. My cock, somehow, was hard again, and as Carol continued to spasm with the aftershocks of her orgasm I moved up close to the edge of the couch, my cock in hand, wiggling the little nub up and down the channel in anticipation of what was to follow. The look on Carol's face was one of shock, apparently as stunned as I was that I was hard again, and as I began to slide my cock inside of her she screamed. "No, Mr. Schiller!" Carol shrieked, recoiling from me so quickly that she toppled of the couch cowering in fear. "I can't!" "Okay okay okay," I said when her reaction was suggesting I was about to rape her, which was definitely not the case. "I'm sorry honey. I thought the way you were acting that you wanted me to." "No," Carol gasped as she shook her head violently. "Daddy would kill me." "Fine, honey," I said calmly while trying to get her to relax before she had a stroke. "I'm sorry about that, okay?" "Shouldn't have even let you put your mouth down there, but I got a little crazy for a spell," Carol said. "Hope Daddy don't figure out what you did." "How exactly would your father know about something like that?" I asked. "Oh you don't know my Daddy!" "I know him," I replied, omitting the word unfortunately. "He's got his ways," Carol said, with a look that bordered on religious fervor. "He's got like a sixth sense about impurity. He said that he knew the minute Momma started whoring around." "Huh?" "It's true!" Carol declared. "Any of us does anything nasty - it's like he can read our minds or something. Just last week Daddy figured out that Dave had abused himself. Next thing you know I hear my brother howling as he's hanging from the rafters in the barn along with the whistling of the switch." "You get beat for masturbating?" I asked incredulously, and Carol nodded. If I had grown up in that house I figure I would had my ass cut to ribbons, and while I knew that some people out here in the sticks were weird, Ted Brown sounded positively barbaric. "With all that, how in the world did you ever get to do anything?" I asked, referring to the couple of guys she said she had given hand-jobs and blow-jobs to. "Well," Carol said, leaving an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. "They're family." "Who's family?" "Daddy and Jeff," she replied, with Jeff being her older brother. "Wait a minute," I said as Carol started to shrink away from me. "Are you telling me that your father and your older brother..." "Don't be mad at me Mr. Schiller," Carol sobbed. "I'm not mad," I insisted. "But you're telling me that your father makes you jerk him and your brother off?" "Yeah." "And you're supposed to suck on their cocks too?" "Yeah, and since Jeff turned 18 he gets to do me the family style like Daddy does every Saturday night." "The family style?" "Yeah. Dave, he's only just turning 17 so he has to wait until he's 18 like Jeff did," Carol explained. "Daddy's strict about that. On his 18th birthday he gets to have a drink of bourbon and do it with me family style." "Carol, I don't understand what this family style is," I said. "You know," she answered as she pointed to her backside. "Your father and brother stick their cocks in your ass every Saturday night?" I practically screamed. "Just my older brother," Carol corrected. "Daddy can do it any night he wants though. "And you do it?" "You're mad at me," Carol said. "No I'm not. Your father is a sick fuck." "I wouldn't tell him that." "No wonder your mother took off," I deduced. "Maybe she did," Carol said. "Not sure about that. She never did say goodbye." "Good grief," I said, wondering whether the poor woman was buried somewhere in that farm. "We can do it family style if you want," Carol said, her face coming to life as if a light bulb just appeared over her head. "I don't want to do it family style," I said, the thought of sticking my cock in Ted Brown's spunk making my stomach churn. "Don't you like it that way?" Carol said. "It's really good and tight, especially since your thing is way fatter than... oh. You aren't hard anymore. You are mad at me." I shook my head and just before I started crying I turned and hurried to the bathroom, making it just before I lost my Hungry Man dinner. When I emerged from the bathroom Carol was gone, probably sneaking back to her personal hell, while I sat and stared at the muted TV for a long time. *** Carol came back the next night, all upset. Her father had been waiting for her last night when she tried to sneak back in, and he accused her of doing improper things, claiming he could smell someone's seed on her. Ted Brown was either pretty perceptive or just a lucky guesser, but Carol insisted that he somehow could read their minds and knew when any of them were up to no good, as she put it. "What did he do to you?" I asked, and Carol took off her blouse and showed me her back, which bore the marks of the switch that her father had whipped her with. "Why don't you just move out? "To where?" Carol asked. "Here," I heard myself saying. "Move in with me." "He would find me," Carol said as she shook her head. "Then he would kill me - probably you too. Burn your house down." "Well then just move away," I said. "Move out of the county. Out of the state. I'll give you enough money to settle in somewhere until you can find a job." "Wouldn't matter where I went," Carol lamented. "He would find me. He knows." "Well, let me put something on those scratches," I said, and after I came back with a cloth and some Bactine, Carol let me take care of her. "Stings," Carol said as the medicine hit the sores, but after a while she relaxed. "Do you just stand there and take it? I asked, and Carol explained that she got dragged to the barn by her hair and gets her wrists tied to these rope bracelets he's got secured to a cross-beam. "Hurts me more because I'm shorter than my brothers," she said, which accounted for the red marks around her wrists. "I have to stand on my tippi-toes, but even then my feet don't touch the ground when he gets wailing on me, and it hurts my shoulders and hands." "The man is a sadist," I said, moving my hands up to rub her broad shoulders. "You aren't gonna get sick again, are you?" Carol asked. "I know I made you so disgusted last night that you got sick. Surprised you even want to touch me." "It isn't you. It's that sick bastard and the things he does to you," I told her. "I feel like going down there and kicking his ass." "Even if you could, he would get you in the end. You think you know him but you have no idea what he's like," Carol said. "If I wasn't for you to being here to talk to, I think I would go crazy." "I'm always here for you," I assured her. "I'd do anything for you." "I want to feel you inside of me," Carol said, leaning back into me. "I'm sorry - I can't do that," I said, the thought of doing that family style vulgarity making me cringe, not the act itself but for what it represented to her. "Anything but that." "Not that," Carol said as she turned to face me. "Make love to me... like real people do." *** Her pussy was like a vice, even for the very modest thickness of the tip of my dick. When I began sinking deeper into Carol, it got even tighter, but I leaned into her, forcing my thick curved cock into her cramped pussy. "Relax honey," I said, noticing the tears running down Carol's cheeks as I worked more of myself into her. "You're so tight." As I leaned into Carol, sinking the entire arched prong into her pussy, I brushed the tears from her face and told her how pretty she was and how much I cared about her. "That's it," I groaned while thrusting into Carol harder and faster. "You're so tight honey," I gasped as I began to work in and out of her sex, the sloshing noises in chorus with Carol's whimpering. "So good." I happened to look down, remembering how erotic it used to be when I would watch myself going in and out of my wife, and when I did I stopped on a dime. "Oh no!" I choked as I looked down at the once strawberry blonde hair that surrounded Carol's sex, now a very different color, stained with the evidence of what I had just done to her. At first I wanted to blame her. It was her fault. What kind of girl not only jerks some old bastard off in the afternoon, but sneaks over at night for more? What's more, she goes down on him like a pro? What kind of a girl does that? Certainly not - a virgin. It didn't stop me though, in fact I barely missed a stroke as I kept thrusting myself into her ravaged pussy, and Carol was too busy writhing and squirming under me to notice my moment of guilt. She came - her eyes bugging half out of her skull as she dug her fingers into my arms - and as her pussy tried to snap my cock in half I came too, filling Carol's womb with my seed. "Wow," Carol said softly before I rolled off of her and rested beside her, and thankfully she didn't tell me that it was better than what she had been made to do to her old man and brothers. "It was worth what Daddy's gonna do to me when I get home." "He won't know," I told her, but she shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling with her hands linked behind her head. "Yes he will," Carol sighed. "I told you he knows everything us kids do." I dropped it, choosing instead to toy with the hair that filled her exposed armpit, and she giggled but didn't stop me as I kept playing. "The girl on I Dream of Jeannie shaves her underarms," I said in passing. "That's because Jeannie don't live with my Daddy," Carol opined. "Daddy says women should stay natural, the way the creator made us." "Religious man, huh?" I said while resisting the urge to remind Carol that I didn't recall any commandment that said thou shall fuck my daughter in the ass. "It makes me look like a boy, doesn't it?" "No," I responded while glancing down at her breasts rising and falling. "Actually it's kind of sexy." "Can we do it again?" Carol asked after a minute. "Can't get in any more trouble if I do it twice. That is, if you want to." "Oh, I want to," I said. "It's more like if I can or not." "Oh, you can alright," Carol said as she slid down to make sure I could, and as it turned out, she was right. The second time was even better than the first for Carol, and although my body was staring to betray me, with my back becoming as stiff as my dick, I was loving it too. Gone was the fear in Carol's eyes and the guilt from my soul. She was a woman and I was a man, and what we were doing was very right. Afterward, we took a bath together and I washed Carol's very sore private area with love. It was fun times until it became time for Carol to go back home. Refusing my offer of a ride home for fear of her daddy seeing the car, she kissed me good bye and headed down the road for home. *** I thought about the hold that sick fuck Ted Brown had on Carol, and for the boys for that matter. They seemed pretty sick too but what else would you expect when you get raised in a household when sadism and sodomy are taught? After about 15 minutes, I couldn't stand just sitting there so I headed down the road in my car, lights out, just to make sure that Carol wasn't actually right about her father being able to read minds or whatever powers she imagined him having. Down at the Brown farm, the light were out, so I breathed a sight of relief and went a ways down the road to tun around. It was then that I saw that there was a light on in the barn, and after I rolled down the window I heard a distressed voice crying out. How fast can I drive a half mile? Never faster than that night, and as I tore across my lawn and jumped out of the car I cursed myself for not being better prepared. I ran into the spare room and grabbed my gun, which had only been used a couple of times for deer hunting, and after making a quick phone call to the County Sheriff's off ice to report a ruckus at the Brown farm, back I went. What had happened in that four minutes I was gone, I don't know, but when I burst through the door the sight sickened me. Ted Brown and his oldest boy were standing there, naked as jaybirds with their stiff peckers waving around. Carol. Poor sweet Carol was hung up just like she said she would be. She was either passed out or on the way to unconsciousness, with her eyes rolled back in her head as she dangled helplessly by her wrists, with every muscle and tendon in her arms and shoulders fully expressed in the dim light of the lantern. "Schiller! You're the fucking pervert that ruined my little girl?" Ted Brown snarled as he saw me standing there looking quite like John Wayne with my rifle ready. "Shut up," I snapped as I waved the gun around as menacingly as I could manage. "The only sick sonofabitch in this room is you. Take that thing out of her - NOW!" They had stuck what turned out to be the handle of a hammer into Carol, and I suppose that they had been merciful in their perverted ways that they hadn't used it the other way. What they had done to her back was not something I could see, but given the branches the two of them had I didn't want to look. Carol's brother took the hammer out of his sister and looked at me, his dick no longer erect. His father was still hard though, probably getting off on this craziness, and after cursing me out reminded me that I was outnumbered. "Which one of us are you going to shoot?" Ted Brown asked as he took a step toward me, leaving another dozen or so between us. "And which one of us is going to kill you after that?" "Why don't you come find out? I don't want to shoot your boy because you're the problem here," I said as I tired to keep the gun from shaking. "And where's your other son?" "Around," Ted Brown said with a sadistic grin, and I think he started to say something about me going to find out, when I did. I remember feeling the blow on the back of my head, which turned out to be the result of his youngest smashing my skull with a shovel, and because of the concussion I got from that, what happened after that is either a jumble or forgotten. Because I am able to tell the tale, the story does not end with me meeting my end. The dramatic rescue came not from me being James Bond-like in saving my young love but from the Deputy that arrived a bit after I came in and screwed up. I do recall thinking it was weird that everybody was upside down, which was actually the result of the Brown family minus Carol stripping my clothes off and tying me upside down next to Carol. My back stung when I would come to every few seconds, but that was nothing compared to my groin, which hurt like hell. Turns out they had managed to work some kind of bungee cord around my cock and balls while wrapping the other end of the rope loosely around my neck, which explained that ghastly purple thing pointed down at me while my head spun. I'm sure the young deputy who came to our rescue had quite a tale to tell back at headquarters, even though only the sketchiest details of what happened ever made it to the newspapers. Carol was bruised and battered but had no lasting injuries, at least of the physical kind. As for me, my nuts ached for a few weeks but everything still worked after the pain went away, as Carol could attest to after she moved in with me. Carol was reluctant to press charges, but I wasn't, and the Deputy had seen enough to make my accusations believable if it even came to court. It didn't, with Ted Brown agreeing to take a deal to put his ass away for about 5 to 8 years so his boys would get off easy. I wasn't even mad about the young fella clocking me with the shovel - hell - I would likely have done the same this for my father, and he would have got off free and clear if he didn't try to set my car on fire one night. Dumb kid not only torched my car but set his pants on fire in the process, so after he got out of the hospital he joined the rest of the Brown males in prison. As you can imagine, Carol and yours truly were rather infamous around those parts after that, and while it didn't bother me all that much it took a toll on Carol. Heck, I knew it was only a matter of time anyway, so after about a year I offered to set her up in a town at the other end of the state. Sort of like our own version of the witness protection program. I got her a decent apartment, made sure she got a GED, and even helped her get a job. It wasn't anything great, but anything was an improvement over the hell she grew up in. She still contacted me from time to time, asking about how I was and how her older brother was doing down at the farm Her older brother and I - we had a kind of understanding, and as it turned out the kid was okay. Just a little twisted, but his little stint in jail came with some counseling, so when he got out I even helped him a little bit down at his farm and he's doing okay. Hopefully his old man will die in jail so he won't get back and screw the kid up again. Carol's messages to me became less frequent, but while that worried me, I found out that she was not only doing okay but was doing great at her job and at life. She even met a guy, which she told me with considerable trepidation. "I'm happy for you," I told her, and that was the truth. She deserved something better than what she had; better than the torture chamber of his father's and better than a run down old guy like me could give her. We had given each other what we needed, and while my best days were behind me, Carol's were yet to come, or at least that's what I hope for. *** thanks for reading